


Friday, I'm in Love

by meldve



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, There's a hidden Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meldve/pseuds/meldve
Summary: Akaashi calls you. He never calls you… Unless it has something to do with a certain grey and black-haired ace and his infamous emo mode.





	Friday, I'm in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic in maybe 8 or 9 years or so. I used to write for bands, but I recently re-discovered my childhood love for anime and got hooked like no other onto Haikyuu!! The characters are just so varied and loveable. Please enjoy my take on Bokuto.

Fridays are the best. The office you work at - a small book publishing company with a medium-sized office building in downtown Tokyo - has closed up for the day. At 3:35pm, you leave your desk in a huff, thankful that the week has finally come to a close. 

There are certain perks of working for a small company. The first is casual Friday’s. The second is coming and going as you please for lunch or fresh air. The third is that it’s a short train ride away from yours and Bokuto’s apartment. 

After letting your boss know that you were done for the day, she thanks you for your hard work. You quickly speed off to the elevator. 

 The streets are rustling and ready for life to wander in and out of the various shopping complexes. Small food business owners line up on the side, reading to start preparing their specialties for the busy nightlife. You always loved Tokyo - it never really changes but always finds a way to surprise you every single day. Upon reaching the metro, you thought about how you usually spent your Friday nights, tucked away on your small, grey couch with a nice home-cooked meal or Bokuto’s choice of take out. Friday’s were his cheat day (not that he ever really ate healthy) and a day that you two dedicated to celebrating the end of a great working week. 

You had known Bokuto since starting at the University of Tokyo in freshman year. He was offered a scholarship to play Volleyball, and you… Were a literature and history major. You two couldn’t have been more different if you tried. However, you had met him by chance at a mutual friend’s karaoke gathering. It had taken place in a too small, too crowded apartment with too much alcohol. 

You weren’t a big drinker, so you stood in the corner, away from the madness and buzzing of television, in fear that you might be dragged up to sing. Thank God no one dared pull you up. You knew people, sure, but it was freshman year and you weren’t too comfortable with the fact that most of the people were acquaintances, other than the person’s apartment you were standing in. The owner ran up to you while you were onto your second (or was it third?) beer, clutching your arm in desperation and wide eyes. The beer neck detached from your mouth with a pop as you crouched down to listen to your friend’s wails. “Some boys from the Volleyball team are on their way! I invited Akaashi-kun - you know the one with black hair - from our elective literature class?” You only nodded without reply, and she took it as conviction to go on. “ _Well_ , turns out he knows Bokuto-kun!” She exclaimed. You raised an eyebrow, still silent, pressing the beer back against your lips. “ _Bo-ku-to-kun,_ ” she over-annunciated, “Captain of Fukurodani? 4th best Spiker in Japan at some point in his high school career?” She questioned you further, and maybe you had heard of a “Bokuto-kun” or “Bokuto-san” in passing, but you definitely knew who Akaashi was, at least. “Ugh, you are the worst!” she exclaimed, leaning further into your left arm while your beer detached from your mouth again. You giggled and patted her on the head. “I’m excited for you, I’m sure the boys coming over is a big deal and I’m sure they are all cute and want to get to know you.” 

Laughter and drinks ensued once the Volleyball team and Akaashi arrived, turning an already hyped up gathering into an almost-frat party in the middle of Tokyo. 

You had said hi to Akaashi, who had recognised you from your mutual class and struck up the courage to start a conversation with him. You were actually enjoying yourself when you heard screeching coming from the living room. 

And there was Bokuto Kōtarō, who just happened to sing an awfully boozed-up and shouty version of some popular rock song you’d heard way too many times. You questioned his spiked up hair, his too-tight shirt and his choice of shorts with leggings underneath. You tilted your head to the side and smiled. _Cute_ , you thought. Akaashi next to you chuckled. He followed your line of sight and let out a sigh. “Bokuto-san’s a lively one. I’ve known him since high school.” Bokuto’s karaoke time came to an end, and he scanned the crowd with squinty eyes. He spotted Akaashi, with you standing next to him, and immediately beamed. “Hey, hey, Akaashi!”

Throughout the night you found yourself time and time again meeting the eyes of a super loud (but also super muscular) sportsman. Frankly, that’s how you two had met, eventually dating a couple of months after. It wasn’t an immediate thing - flirting here and there, offers to walk you home or carry your books, and invitations to the Volleyball games (“You gotta watch me! I’m the best!”).  

You broke out of your thoughts once you reached the apartment. Instantly dragging your feet across the threshold, dumping your bags and shoes at the doorway you made a beeline for the couch. You body sank into the pillows, almost as if the couch remembers your shape each and every time you lay your weary body onto it. The couch was  so comfortable that you don’t even opt to turn on the television. 

After a few hours of peace, experiencing the ins and outs of waking up, realising it’s the weekend then drifting back to sleep, your phone softly rings near the doorway.  

You glance at the clock. 6:15. Bokuto would be a couple of hours into practice by now. Since graduating university, he practices with a local association team on fridays with Akaashi. On regular days, Bokuto specialises in coaching and training various Volleyball spikers - youth and national like - across Tokyo. He usually gets home before you do, with most of his coaching happening during the day. You force yourself off the couch with a groan, stretching your back and arms in the process. 

Once your reach your bag, you bend down and attempt to find your phone in a disorientated haze. When the vibrating bumps against your fingertips, you clutch and pull it out of the mess of papers and highlighters, straining your eyes to see if Bokuto was trying to contact you. 

_Akaashi Keiji is calling…_

Akaashi?

“Hello?” you ask into the receiver. “Hey, it’s just me.” You out let a little yawn and let your feet pit-and-pat their way back to the couch. “I’m sorry - did I wake you?” he continues anyway without your reply. “Bokuto-san’s emo mode is through the roof right now.” Your eyelids droop, as if they could droop anymore. 

Bokuto’s infamous emo mode was a story that you heard from Akaashi too many times before you had actually watched a Volleyball game. You thought that no one could be that dejected or frustrated after a few mistakes - and boy, did you think wrong. 

The first time you witnessed Bokuto’s emo mode was during a practice game between another local university. Bokuto had missed a few spikes and dejected halfway through. It took a win (and a couple of tantrums) to bounce back from the second set. 

The 26th time you witnessed Bokuto’s emo mode, you two had just started dating and some random brown-haired setter from another university during their break had come up to you “to talk” during Bokuto’s game. When Bokuto looked to the crowd, he saw what happened andimmediately started to over-power his spikes which sent them out of bounds. This, in turn, caused their team to nearly lose the quarter finals of the Inter-University tournament. 

You brought yourself back to the conversation. “He always finds a way to bounce back. You’ve always calmed him down,” you tell Akaashi. “Maybe put him on the phone? I can talk to him if you want?” You can hear some rustling on the other end, “He refuses to speak to anyone. I might send him home early. Can you cheer him up please? You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.” You smile sotfly and switch the receiver to your other ear. “Of course, Keiji.” You hear an audible sigh. “I owe you one. I’ll text you when I’ve sent him out.” You say your goodbyes and grab your bag, rushing out the door. 

After trotting back from the downstairs supermarket, you hit the ground running with Bokuto’s favourite food: meat. And a hell of a lot of it, too. 

Bokuto’s emo mode was nothing new to you, however, Akaashi normally would not call you up on a Friday to send your salt and pepper haired boyfriend home early from practice. 

A few minutes pass by and your grilling is cut to a halt with the sound of keys jingling at the door. You wipe your hands on your apron and run to the door to open it, just in case Bokuto’s emo mode has been packed up in his gym bag and had been taken back with him. 

You slowly pull the door towards yourself and peer your head around. There stands Bokuto, his head down and shoulders slumped, but with a tiny smile on his face. “Hi babe, I’m home early today.” You catch his eyes, and they’re not as bad as you thought they would be, in fact, they’re a little sheepish. He must have either lashed out at Akaashi or known that Akaashi had told you what happened. You smile gently and hold your hands out, ready to wrap him in the biggest ‘welcome home’ hug. "Kōtarō..." you say as you breathe out. Bokuto steps forward leans into you. Usually stoic, holds his own weight so you wouldn’t feel how heavy he was. Today is different. Today he needs someone to lean on. You take it all. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. You rub his back. He sighs deeply, taking in the scent of your hair and neck, nuzzling his nose into any crevice he can. Finally, you break away and usher him inside, your right arm guiding the middle of his back. 

“Ahhh, I had a shitty day. I just… I couldn’t get the straights right. I couldn’t… do anything.” He dumps his bag and shoes near the door way, just as you had earlier. You close the door and turn to face him. “Keiji called.” He drops your gaze and hangs his head low. He remains quiet as you continue to talk. “He was worried about you, I don’t think he’s ever had to send you home before.” He turns his back to you, and stares across to the living room floor. “I’m sorry.” You step towards him, looping your arms between his own, wrapping them tightly against his torso. You lay your head in the middle of his back and sigh. “You have nothing to be sorry about. At least, not to me anyway. Maybe you should treat your team to drinks to get them in high spirits. Besides, I know Keiji always has a way to make you feel better. Maybe today wasn’t your day.” He’s holding your hands with his own now, his thumb circling across parts of your hands with no real pattern or direction. You can tell his mind is wandering. 

“I hate to let go - but I have some meat to cook for my favourite man.” He whips himself so fast you almost fall, but luckily his hands grab onto your arms as he spins around. “Meat?” He asks, shaking you from side to side in a frantic motion. “You got me meat?!” You throw your head back and laugh from the bottom of your heart. It’s so typical of Bokuto to get happy over something so small like meat. “Of course I got you meat,” you say pulling away, walking back to the kitchen. “You would do the same for me on any given day. This is nothing, just something to hopefully lift your spirits and remind you that there’s always something to bring you back to Earth when you’re having a bad day.” 

You lower the temperature of the grill, turning various cuts of meat and vegetables on its other side. It’s quiet while you work, so you peak a look at Bokuto, who’s staring at you, mouth slightly hung and eyes nearly as wide. “What?” you ask, turning to wipe your hands on the kitchen towel. You feel Bokuto snake his arms around your torso this time, burying his cheek into your neck and swaying you from side to side. He breathes deeply and you stay quiet, feeling his chest rise and fall against your back. He holds you tighter and says, “You are so good to me.” You close your eyes and revel in the touch, leaning your head back so it aligns perfectly against his left shoulder. He turns to your cheek to kiss it, holding you still. 

You continue to breath him in. Everything about him is intoxicating. His eyes. His smile. His body. God, his body. But ever since you became friends, it was his contagious personality that kept you hooked, more than his musk or cologne ever could. 

At this point, the world went perfectly still. 

Until you felt something wet drip down the side of your neck.

“Bokuto.” It sounded more like a statement than a question. “Yes?” he asks lightly. “Are you drooling over your meat?” you ask just as light, raising your hand to rid your neck of your boyfriend’s uncontrollable mouth liquid. “If you’re not angry, it’s drool. If you’re angry… It’s still drool and I’m sorry.” You laugh and turn to face him, cupping his cheek in your hand. “I could never be angry at you. Not when you’re the cutest.”

He flashes a wicked grin and leans down to press his lips ever so slightly to yours. “Fridays are the best, you know,” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours. “Because I get to come home to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr @ meldve.tumblr.com


End file.
